


Corner of Your Heart

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Homeland
Genre: Anger, Character Study, Cuddling, F/M, Jealousy, Older Man/Younger Woman, Saurrie is the name I am giving this ship, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: For reasons he can't quite explain to Carrie, Saul is furious after witnessing her interrogation of Nick Brody.





	Corner of Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I am only in season two of Homeland, but the dynamic between Saul and Carrie and its evolution is everything to me. I was so disappointed to find there are almost no Carrie/Saul fics. So I decided to remedy that situation. . .. this is yet another of my irrationally bizarre ships upon which I am willing to sink to the bottom of the sea.

She skirts the edge of the room. His anger holds her back when all she wants is for him to hold her close.

She was scared. She'll never admit it, but she was.

"You're mad," she says. "with me."

"You did what you had to do. You're safe. That's all that matters." Saul bows his head and paces against the rhythm of her pacing. It flusters her. "Get some rest." He makes for the door.

"No!" She barks. "Please. Please don't leave me now, Saul."

"Carrie," he starts and shakes his head. He has no other words. And then he coughs up, "I need to not be in the same room as you for a while."

"Fine!" She gasps. "You sit in the living room and I'll go in the kitchen, then you can call me back out when you're ready to talk this through."

"You fucking serious right now?" His voice rises with his agitation so it is higher in pitch, but somehow also rougher.

She takes the risk, approaches him, grabs his hand in an almost childish manner and pulls him away from the door. "I need you," her voice twists with her face.

Saul throws his head back and snorts a sardonic laugh. "You need me? You've never needed anyone. As long as you're getting your way you don't need anyone or anything, Carrie."

"That's not true and you know it."

"No?"

"No. No! I've always needed you. I need you now. Saul, please." He looks at the despair painted on her delicate features. He reads desperation, and so many questions she wants to ask him but probably never will. _Can you ever forgive me? Do you still love me? Could you find a corner of your heart in which to keep me safe? Will you be bigger than me and contain me when my brain burns like an out of control California wild fire?_

As he watches a tear slip down her cheek, he realizes the answer to all of these questions is not just _yes_, but a resounding _yes_. A yes without hesitation.

He exhales in a gust and his eyes dart from her to the corners of the room. "You got anything to drink?"

"Yeah," she says, relieved. She walks to the cupboard and takes down the bottle of Scotch she's been saving. She retrieves two glasses and sloshes amber liquid into them. She returns to Saul with the offering of single malt. He takes one of the glasses and holds it up in examination. "Should we toast to something?"

"To your skill as an agent," Saul says bitterly and tosses his alcohol back in one gulp.

"Thank you for trusting me," Carrie says.

"Yeah," Saul says and holds his glass out for Carrie to fill again which she does. "Like I had a choice. Like I ever fucking have a choice with you." She presses her lips into a tight, sad smile. He takes another sip. "This stuff isn't bad," he sighs and walks to her couch. He flops into the cushions with a groan. Her smile widens but she stays on the other side of the room, not testing her luck lest she shatter this moment, this here, this now. Saul on her couch, even angry as he is, is a welcome sight. She fills her eyes with him.

"You got an estimate on how long you're going to be pissed with me this time?"

"Nope," he says and pats the cushion next to him. An invitation. She joins him.

"So what is it exactly? Are you pissed I let him make me or are you pissed because I went to plan b?"

"Plan b? You went so far off the books you should be fired. Again. But no. Alls well that ends well, I suppose."

"Then what is it?"

Saul closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Forget it," he says and turns his head toward her. She's tucked her knees up and rests her chin on them. A shiny wave of golden hair has fallen over her eye. He reaches over and with two fingers that seem ridiculously large and ungraceful, tucks it behind her ear. She raises her eyebrows, waits for him to speak. She is not going to follow his directions and forget it, but when does she ever follow his directions? "You said you loved him. Brody. During your confrontation at the hotel."

"Yeah. So? You knew that Saul. You knew that months ago."

"I knew it, but I never heard you say it. Not like that. Not out loud. And then in your interrogation of him, to hear all about how you felt for him, about how he broke your heart. It was hard to hear that, Carrie."

"I'm sorry," Carrie says. Her face scrunches in confusion.

"No. You don't have to be sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry he did that to you. I'm sorry I didn't protect you better. I should have been looking out for you. I hate it that he hurt you."

"Saul," Carrie's voice is firm. She inches closer to him so their bodies touch. She places her hands on his arm and squeezes it. For an older man, he is still firm. She senses the incredible strength of his muscles, the animalistic masculinity he keeps so well hidden beneath his crisp, button down shirts and soft, corduroy pants. She swallows. "I'm a big girl and I make my own decisions. They might not always be good decisions," at this he offers a wry smile and his eyebrows hinge. She laughs softly at his expression and continues, "but they are my decisions. Mine." She rises from the couch and retrieves the bottle of Scotch from the kitchen, brings it out and refills both their glasses. After setting the bottle down on the coffee table she settles herself back onto the couch with the man who has always loomed larger than a bear in her life. They clink their glasses together and drink deep. Saul curls his hands around his glass and brings it to rest on his thigh. "What is it?" Carrie asks. She places her glass on the table and brings her fingers up to trace the lines in his forehead.

Saul thinks back over the blurred decade that sits between them. He thinks of the moments of compromise and consternation. He sits up and drinks the rest of his Scotch. He places his drink on the table next to hers then angles his body so he faces her. "I never wanted to hurt you. Somedays you're the only thing in the world I believe in. How could I ever willingly harm that?" His face is close to hers. He smells the lotion she's always putting on her hands and arms. In many days past, when they were cooped up in close quarters, it annoyed him but now he breathes it in like extreme unction. It's the scent he wants to carry with him to his grave.

"You didn't hurt me, Saul," she says. She smells the bite of garlic beneath the Scotch on his breath.

"Feels like I did," he whispers and his eyes twinkle for the tears in them.

"Oh," she gasps and brings both of her delicate hands to either side of his shaggy face. "No. You didn't. You could never." Her fingertips stroke into his beard. He contemplates the depths of her eyes, not quite blue or green or gray. He feels suspended in air. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's the fact she narrowly avoided death of self and career once again, but he feels like he gazes into another world, another life in which there is a glimpse of something sweet and succulent and entirely peaceful.

"Fine, you can have it all," he mutters. Carrie regards him curiously. "I always thought there was a corner of my heart where I put you. I could keep you there like I was shoving something under a bed or in a closet. But it's not like that."

"It's not?"

"No, Carrie. It's not. When I heard you talking to Brody in there I realized you had it all. All the space. My whole heart."

"Holy shit, you weren't mad at me because you were jealous? Were you?"

"Nah. Not exactly. I don't know. Maybe that was a little bit of it, but I think it was more that I realized how worried I was for you, and how angry I was at Brody. It flooded me. It filled my whole heart and then there you were." Saul shrugs.

"Saul," Carrie starts.

"Shh, it's okay, you don't have to say anything. I know it's sort of pathetic. Think of me like a grumpy old father bear who doesn't want anyone fucking with his baby."

Carrie bounces back and her eyes go wide. "I don't want you to be my father, Saul."

"Right. I get it. Fuck it. I'm gonna leave now and we can just forget this ever happened." He shifts forward off of the couch.

"No. No! Please," Carrie presses him back and when he wrestles against her, she straddles his waist and uses her body weight to pin his shoulders back against the couch. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. His eyes are just as wide as hers. "Listen to me. Are you listening to me?" Her voice is commanding. Demanding.

"Yeah," he says and stills under her. He prays she can't feel how aroused he's becoming from the heat and weight of her pressed against him.

"I don't want you to be my father," she whispers, her face close to his. "I've never wanted that. Do you understand?" He nods. His forehead touches hers.

"You said you need me."

"I do," her breath puffs against his lips. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I don't know. You made it pretty clear when you were interrogating Brody that it wasn't me you needed. Or wanted. I don't know." His hands rest on her hips, then they travel up to her waist. Fuck she's so small. His hands helplessly knead her waist, her tiny waist, and her hands tangle in his hair at the back of his neck.

"I have always needed you, Saul. I'm sorry if that wasn't clear, if I took it for granted you'd just be there for me." She nips his cheek, above his beard, and the softness of her lips on his wretched, undeserving flesh makes his heart race circles around her because she's filled it and she's filling it and he's let her.

"Yeah, but do you need me, or do you just need someone?" He manages to bite off the question despite his own needs surging through him.

Again, her sweet, small fingers caress his cheeks. Her thumbs stroke the area just below the rim of his glasses, and he allows his eyes to meet hers. Maybe he's drunk. Maybe the richness of decent single malt on an empty stomach is too much, but he feels the tickle of her fingertips graze his earlobes and he realizes this is the sensation he wants to take with him to his grave. The sight of her looking down on him with those hypnotic, glassy eyes, the pressure of her slender body on him, her alcohol scented breath, and then the raw silk of her voice as she says, "You can have all of mine too." This is the moment in which he wishes to expire so he might take it all with him for eternity.

But he manages to ruin the moment by saying, "But Brody, what you said. . ." and he can't find the words to finish it.

Carrie leans back a bit and heaves a ragged exhalation. "That was something different. Something else." He nods. For some time they are still. Then Saul shifts beneath her. "I'm crushing you," she says, suddenly self conscious and she makes to leave his lap.

"No, you're fine. Don't go," his hands press into the small of her back and pull her against him. She rests her head on his shoulder. It's a primally intimate embrace. It's something to believe in.

"I might fall asleep like this," she murmurs into his neck.

"Fall asleep then," he hums and his breath stirs her hair. "I've got you." She relaxes and he takes her weight like a blessing upon his being. Idly, he kisses her temple and thinks he might sleep too, but suddenly she springs up and stares at him. "What? What is it?" he asks.

"Are you still mad at me? I don't want to fall asleep if you're still mad at me, Saul."

He chuckles lightly and pinches her chin. "No. I'm not." Her lips stretch into a smile and he shakes his head as she tucks herself back into him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are so very welcome and I try to respond to everyone and read your works in kind!


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